It began with a conversation in Bangkok, Thailand. As my friend spoke of his homeland—Ramokokastad in South Africa’s North West Province—his eyes lit up with pride. He painted pictures with his words: rolling hills, vibrant community gatherings, and most strikingly, people who transformed daily struggles into stepping stones toward a better tomorrow.
“Our people have always been problem solvers,” he told me, “but sometimes they don’t recognize that their solutions could become opportunities.”
Those words stayed with me, echoing in my mind as Global Impact Innovators took shape. What started as casual conversations about empowering rural communities through entrepreneurship and technology evolved into something tangible—a nonprofit with a purpose. Not to “save” communities like Ramokokastad, but to walk alongside them, recognizing that true innovation emerges from within.
Though not a literal homecoming, my first journey to Ramokokastad resonated deeply, stirring something within me while simultaneously sparking a new awareness. The two-hour drive from Pretoria show-cased landscapes mirroring the complexity of my own inner world. Entering the village, I discovered a surprising abundance: a surplus of kindness, of creative concepts, and of latent potential yearning to be realized.
We visited my friend’s family, where I met their neighbor, a woman whose wisdom would shape our approach. Looking directly into my eyes, she said firmly, “We don’t need people to build for us. We need people who see what we’re already building and join us as we transform our communities.” Her words weren’t just a welcome; hey were a mandate that would guide everything we did.
Throughout Ramokokastad, innovations were hiding in plain sight. Young people shared ideas born not from textbooks but from lived experience—solutions to real problems they encountered daily. Some envisioned delivery systems to bring food to elderly neighbors who couldn’t make the journey to markets. Others had conceived creative approaches to increase farm productivity using locally available resources. These weren’t just survival tactics—they were business models waiting to be recognized and refined.
By March 2025, what began as WhatsApp exchanges blossomed into in-person workshops unlike any I’d facilitated before. I’ll never forget pulling into the community hall compound that first morning, seeing these young people sitting outside in anticipation. They had arrived early, eager to begin—these faces of determination and hope were the future of Ramokokastad.
Our entrepreneurship training wasn’t about introducing foreign concepts; it was about reframing familiar challenges. “What frustrates you most about daily life here?” I asked on our first day together.
The responses flowed: unreliable transportation, limited access to fresh produce in certain seasons, gaps in childcare availability. But instead of dwelling on these challenges, we transformed them into questions that sparked possibilities: “How might we create a community-owned transportation network? What if seasonal food scarcity became an opportunity for food preservation businesses?”
As the days passed, I watched shy participants transform into confident innovators. Thapelo, initially reserved, opened up on the second day about his passion for technology. Having received some training himself, he dreamed of creating a program to share these skills with other young people in the community. His eyes lit up as he spoke about building a tech hub where knowledge could multiply. Similarly, Gomolemo envisioned an educational initiative but hadn’t known where to begin—until now.
Across the room, a young woman shared her grandmother’s recipes with such reverence that everyone fell silent. “This isn’t just business,” she explained, eyes bright with realization. “It’s preserving our heritage.” Her family’s traditional cooking methods could become both cultural preservation and economic opportunity.
Pertunia’s passion emerged when she spoke about livestock. With animated gestures, she described her vision for a sustainable animal husbandry operation that would provide consistent meat and animal products to the village year-round. “No one should have to travel hours for fresh protein,” she insisted, already mapping out breeding schedules and feed sources that would work within local constraints.
Mphoentle identified a different kind of hunger in the community—the need for physical wellness. As a fitness enthusiast in a village without a single exercise facility, she recognized both the health challenges and the mental strain affecting her neighbors. “People here need somewhere to release stress and build strength,” she explained, demonstrating simple exercises that could be done with minimal equipment. Her vision for a community fitness center wasn’t just about physical health—it was about creating a space for community connection and emotional wellbeing.
Then there was Tideimalo, who stood up with her own story. Following her mother’s footsteps in fashion design, she dreamed of creating clothing that merged with traditional cultural elements with contemporary styles. “Our patterns and techniques tell stories”, She said, draping a piece of fabric over her shoulder. “I want the world to wear our stories, and I want our people to see our heritage as something beautiful for everyday life.”
Each participant brought a unique vision, but they shared a common thread—a deep desire to solve problems while honoring the community that raised them. They didn’t want to leave Ramokokastad to find opportunity; they wanted to create opportunity within its embrace.
Our training focused on illuminating the entrepreneurial spirit already pulsing through the village. We introduced frameworks for community-centered design thinking, tools for validating business ideas, and methods for prototyping solutions with minimal resources. But the true magic happened when these approaches merged with generations of local knowledge—when modern business canvas models were filled with wisdom passed down through families.
The Rural Entrepreneurship Fund (REF), currently a promising proposal, is poised to organically emerge from these community discussions, offering crucial seed capital. This envisioned REF distinguishes itself through its circular model: as businesses flourish, a portion of their growth reinvests, fostering a self-sustaining cycle of innovation. While initial investments will be targeted and modest, they are designed to facilitate immediate testing and validation, transforming future aspirations into present-day realities.
Today, Ramokokastad is writing its own story of transformation. The statistics—5,141 residents, 92.8% Tswana speakers—now tell only the beginning of the tale. The real story lives in the dozens of ventures taking root and in the growing number of young people choosing to build their futures in the place that nurtured them.
This journey has taught me that meaningful change doesn’t arrive from outside; it emerges when existing wisdom and new perspectives dance together. Global Impact Innovators didn’t bring entrepreneurship to Ramokokastad—we simply helped make visible the entrepreneurial spirit that had always flourished there, often unrecognized even by those embodying it most fully.
As the sun sets over Ramokokastad, casting long shadows across community gardens now thriving with both traditional and new crops, I’m reminded of my friend’s words in that Bangkok café two years ago. The whispers of Ramokokastad have become a chorus—a powerful testament to what’s possible when communities recognize their challenges not as barriers but as invitations to create something new, together.
The journey continues, one entrepreneur, one idea, one community at a time.
